


Bickering

by ThatWriterKid



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [5]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale and Crowley Live Together (Good Omens), Cute Ending, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Minor Argument Barely Even Counts As An Argument, Oh my god they were quarantined, aziraphale and crowley are married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:20:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23723746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatWriterKid/pseuds/ThatWriterKid
Summary: Even Aziraphale and Crowley get in a spat sometimes. If you could call it a spat. There's cocoa after.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Tumblr Ficlets [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1661779
Comments: 2
Kudos: 54





	Bickering

**Author's Note:**

> Quarantine not mentioned, but implied by close quarters. Probably exists in the same world as [Low-Grade Good](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23232004).
> 
> I was writing an example about something for a friend and then this ficlet showed up. Read on [Tumblr](https://ineffable-writer.tumblr.com/post/615773502336811008/aziraphale-was-still-asleep-crowley-hit-the-bed) or below.

Aziraphale was still asleep. Crowley hit the bed with a thud. It had been a long day and he was done--absolutely done--with the outside world for the moment. Too much stress, too much to deal with, and he wasn't having any of it.

He rolled over and poked his husband on the shoulder. "Hey."

Aziraphale grunted.

“I know you’re awake.”

Silence.

Crowley took a deep breath and whacked the angel square between the shoulderblades.

“ _Crowley_.”

“We can’t both get depressed at the same time. Gotta ration it.”

“If you tell me to _keep calm and carry on_ I swear I will leave a handprint on the Bentley.”

“ _No.”_

 _“_ Right on the windshield.”

There was a beat.

“You’re right,” said Aziraphale. “That was out of line. I’m sorry, dear boy. It’s just so--”

“It’s a lot, yeah.”

Another beat.

“Do you know,” said Aziraphale, “what I like best about time?”

Crowley stifled a laugh.

“Every second--every _minute--_ that ticks-tocks away--”

“Angel.”

“--takes us further away from the fourteenth century.”

“Right, well, now you’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“Did it work?”

“Yes," Crowley mumbled. The angel rolled over and kissed his cheek. An apology. Crowley smiled back at him--forgiveness--and their noses touched. “Would you like some cocoa?”

“I would, yes.”


End file.
